


The Milk Catalyst

by his_intentions_kind (bespectacled_bird)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5480159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bespectacled_bird/pseuds/his_intentions_kind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John asks Sherlock to bring home some milk.</p><p>“Sherlock recalls John attempting to teach him the trivial subject known as Trogdor.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Milk Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> My first Sherlock fandom related fic that I wrote in 2012. Many apologies for all of it. I was given the prompt of "milk" and this is what my brain devised. It is not beta'd so all errors are mine. It's not as cracky as the summary may imply. Also, tags are the most difficult thing.

Sherlock recalls John attempting to teach him the trivial subject known as Trogdor. He did not understand the point of it then but he sees John’s brows have become the human version of a consummate V in his immense displeasure. This is perhaps the most piqued that Sherlock has seen him in a long time. He can appreciate that John lacks any sort of beefy arm in these moments. So there was a point to the web ‘toon. In relation to his being shown its existence by John at least. He’ll have to let him know.

“Are you hearing me? Am I talking to myself once again?” John pauses for a moment then rambles on as Sherlock’s eyes continue to stare off into the distance of the flat. “Sometimes I wonder if you even see me. I don’t think I ask for much. I’ve asked you to bring home milk five times and as you well know, I don’t like eating my cereal dry.”

A deep inhalation and John pinches the bridge of his nose. “I won’t say that severed body parts and… tirades about Anderson’s existence aren’t important but you can’t just go about ignoring every bloody thing that doesn’t interest you. If you are asked to find a needle in a haystack, you can locate the needle and know precisely how it came to be in the exact position it is in among the hay but if I ask you to do simple favours, you’re completely idiotic about it. I’m growing tired of you not caring enough to listen to me.”

The implications of “idiotic,” “tired of you” and “not caring” jolt Sherlock from his world enough that his eyes widen with something akin to hurt and he looks at John, speechless for a few rare seconds. He begins to stutter. “I-I did bring in the milk this time.”

“Mind palace milk, was it? I even had a look behind the eggs and there isn’t any to be found.” John’s frown deepens. In the current lighting, it makes him appear slightly older than his years.

“No. I brought it in and sat it down… behind my chair.” He feels triumphant and defeated all at once. “I was in the middle of figuring out how a little old lady literally strung her husband up by his-” John intercepts him. “Ah. No need to finish that.”

Sherlock bolts up to procure the milk in question. John eyes him sceptically. He hands John the bottle that was obscured by piles of books. “Here you are. It may be closer to yoghurt than milk but I did in fact buy it for you.” An official Sherlock Holmes I told you so tinged apology.

John drops his head and when he raises it back up to meet Sherlock’s gaze, there is a small smile and his shoulders have drooped a fraction. An eventuality averted for the moment. John reaches up to caress Sherlock’s cheek and kisses the side of his head. “Thank you.” The last thing John notices before he goes to put the soured milk in the bin is Sherlock’s grin.


End file.
